This Rain

It’s raining for days,
while it’s been a little cold.
The golden fields wither and fold.
The cattle and egrets both vanished.
This rain was unexpected,
pour inconsolable tears.
The unsettled weather and the growing fears,
that we expected their diligence to be rewarded,
But all their bread and butter smeared with floodwaters.
Like a splatter of ink on the most cherished page of a writer’s diary.
Hope there would be a day when they all be happy.
I felt a glimpse of sadness,
as the trees stand silently in the rain,
and dark clouds shadow the skies.
The daylight dims,
while grief still cradles in their eyes.

– Arun Bahadur Gurung


Arun Bahadur Gurung

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